deal with the devil
by The Periodic Table of Converse
Summary: "If you're playing cards on the side of the devil, then Steve Rogers is playing as an angel, and you and your friends made the foolish mistake of dealing him in for just a single hand. And you had better brace yourself, because you got the demons. Now here come the things a demon has nightmares about."/Tony Stark has a little heart-to-heart with one of HYDRA. rated t - oneshot.


"Mr. Stark, I'm afraid this is just not allowed. You do not have the authority to converse with the prisoner." Anthony Edward Stark brushes past the guard at the elevator of the R.A.F.T., walks straight into the car, and hooks his portable JARVIS up to the mechanics.

The doors snap shut in the middle of the kid's 'regulations' speech. "Take me down J," Tony commands of the phone. The lift begins descending immediately.

"Of course, sir. And while I'm at it, might I suggest you refrain from terrifying the guards. Your anger is being misdirected towards them when you focus it on the HYDRA slave."

Tony ignores him, but when he steps out of the lift, he actually stops to address the two guards and the head of the prison where they wait for him in front of the prisoner's cage.

The head steps forward to address him. "Mr. Stark, I am very sorry, but this is not your jurisdiction. I have to ask you to leave."

Stark shakes his head forcefully. "I want to see him. And I refuse to step foot outside this room unless it is into that cell. Now you decide. You can force me out, or you can give me _five_ minutes."

The three men share glances, and slowly the head guard nods his consent. "Five minutes, Mr. Stark. But only for the Captain."

"I can live with that." Stark pauses at the door. "He's why I'm here, too."

The head guard nods, and Tony takes it as a warning that his five minutes have started. He steps inside the cell. Slowly, the man inside looks up. His frightened, watery blue eyes – once they manage to focus beyond his bulbous nose – meet Tony's fuming brown ones, and quickly dart back to the floor. He looks incredibly worse for the wear. His clothing – once tailored and expensive – is now lank and torn and covered in grease. His normally immaculately polished black dress shoes are missing, leaving the man in tattered black socks.

The billionaire approaches the once-millionaire slowly, with all the air of regality, as though he is choosing to mingle with the scum of the world.

"Senator Stern," Tony Stark says by way of greeting. The imprisoned senator glares up at him in response, but the expression is weak and without fire.

"Mr. Stark. You're looking… comfortable."

Tony smirks down at Stern. "You aren't."

"Come to gloat?"

Again, Tony's lips turn up. "Actually, I'm here on official Avengers business. Avenging, and all that jazz. So demanding most of time, save this, stop that, 'don't threaten your teammates, Mr. Stark.' But let me tell you something, right here and right now. You fucked with Captain America, and while the Avengers are temperamental at best most days, there is one thing we don't stand for. And that's when somebody thinks it's a smart idea to go and mess with one of the few people I actually give a damn about. And that's when you should know that you are well and _truly_ screwed, because no one walks away after hurting my friends.

The former senator scoffs facetiously, only it doesn't sound quite as flippant as he'd like it to.

"You think you're a big man, Mr.Stern," Tony says. "dabbling in the works of demons. You act infallible, like you're untouchable. You think you're safe behind the shields HYDRA has spent over half a century constructing, except do you know what? Have a little Doctor Who wisdom, on me, just one little line that seems to utterly sum up the whole of Steve Rogers and his very powerful allies." Tony Stark leans over the cowering form of the man, cuffed to a metal chair in the center of an interrogation cell. The once proud and powerful figure has been reduced to a trembling and terrified man, stripped of his protections and powerful government allies.

"You're completely defenseless. Even a man locked away and cut off from everything, still has something – he still has two things he would have should he be in the middle of a firefight or right where you are: his belief and his courage, be they incredibly misplaced. You, a henchman and _nothing_ more, have neither, especially not while it's just _you_ and _me_ and four steel walls.

"H– hail, HY– HYDRA…" he stutters out into Tony's livid scowl.

Those words, Mr. Stern, are _just_ that. _Words_." He's hissing now, eyes so thin they're slits, and lips so tightly pressed they're white. He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, because Tony Stark has an entire speech that he's planned out and there is not one word of it that doesn't make him want to grin in triumph.

"Let me tell you something, Stern. Steve Rogers is one of my best friends. He was one of my father's best friends. He is _coincidentally_ the teammate of five powerful-beyond-belief and _utterly_ pissed off superheroes. He also happens to be lying prone and half dead in a hospital bed, sporting four gunshot wounds and God knows how many other cuts and bruises, thanks to your masters' little stunt. To top it off, he almost drowned too, courtesy of that great little assassin-pet of yours. So I want you to know this, because you think you've hurt him. You think he's weak because of you. He's not. If you're playing cards on the side of the demons, then Steve Rogers is playing as an angel, and you and your friends made the _foolish _mistake of dealing him in for even a single hand."

Stern's back is pressed against his chair. Tony's face is inches from his own.

"'One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel.' That's what the entire world does. They tolerate you lot, all you idiots and killers who think the way to leave your mark is to follow the footsteps of the biggest psychopaths on the planet. Those people might not tolerate you by choice, but they do, so their consolation prize is us.

"I want you sit here, and you think that over while you rot and watch helplessly as any _molecule _of dignity you ever once possessed deserts you. Because you got the demons. Now hold on tight, because next up are the things a demon has _nightmares_ about. And you better brace yourself, because that's myself, and Black Widow, and Hawkeye, and Bruce Banner's great and furious and violent alter ego. I hope you have a _miserable_ life."

The guards at the door started listening in once five minutes were up, but none of them had the courage to inform the furious superhero of that fact. The head guard, now that Tony has delivered his speech, shakes himself out of his stupor. "Mr. Stark, y – your five minutes are up."

The billionaire turns to leave, his angry words still washing around the room. He halts in the doorway, and spins slowly. "Remember this, Senator Stern, and never forget it. Because you sold your soul to Hades; you did this to yourself. You made your deal with the devil, and you _lost_. And now, _you're facing the consequences_." He leaves the former senator of Pennsylvania stunned into silence.

The triumphant Avenger does not turn back around again.

**a/n: I absolutely loathe Stern, and this was basically just everything I would want to say to him could I ever meet him. SO, it was a rant fest. I'm quite proud of it. Am I the only one who hates his guts with every ounce in my body? He's a smug little bastard, excuse the language. Please review, thanks.**

**Also, note: a friend of mine, Ma6ic-Un1c0rn, is writing an HG SYOT and needs tributes for it. If you like the Hunger Games and have even a little time to spare, do me a favor and help her out. She and I will be co-authoring an HP fic in the future, once we get all the details sorted, so look out for that. That will be posted on my profile page.**

**Till next time!**


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